


Trick or Treat

by rubyelf



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyelf/pseuds/rubyelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the "GLASS" AU (see list of works if interested), but intended to be read mostly as a stand-alone. Dr. Bean and Dr. Mortensen have an annual Halloween tradition, which Dr. Mortensen always seems to win, but this year it leads to an entirely different conclusion. Also a minor appearance by Billy and Dominic as Billy decides how to deal with Dom's highly questionable choice of Halloween costume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trick or Treat

Halloween in the Emergency Department hadn’t brought much in the way of bizarre incidents yet, but then again, it was just after dark. When Billy, Orlando, and Liv stepped outside for a break before the anticipated activity, they could hear children giggling and screaming as they ran up and down the neighborhood streets in their costumes.

“Your little one out tonight?” Orlando asked.

Liv nodded. “His dad’s taking him. He’s dressed as Spiderman.”

“So are half the other little boys in the city,” Orlando said.

Liv rolled her eyes. “Only about a quarter of them. The rest are either Iron Man, the Incredible Hulk, or Batman.”

“Orlando should’ve gone as a princess,” Billy said, and Liv snickered while Orlando glared. “What? It would suit you better than that ridiculous outfit.”

Orlando glanced down at his half-hearted attempt at a pirate costume. “At least I’ve got my plastic sword. You didn’t even bother with a costume.”

“Of course I did,” Billy said. “I’m a short, bad-tempered emergency room nurse.”

Orlando snorted. Liv pulled off her black cat ears and placed the headband on Billy’s head.

“There. Now you have a costume.”

“What am I? Bad luck?”

“Just don’t cross anyone’s path,” Orlando suggested. Then, glancing down the street, he raised an eyebrow. “Actually, it looks like bad luck came looking for you anyway.”

Billy turned and discovered what looked vaguely like a giant penis wrapped in white plastic strolling down the street toward them, only legs below the knees and arms below the elbows exposed, as well as a small hole for the face. Billy squinted.

“What, you assume that anyone who shows up here dressed as a giant cock on Halloween must be here for me?” Billy asked. “I thought you’re the one who liked big…”

“You need glasses, old man. That’s your charming significant other… maybe you don’t recognize him because he’s always a dick.”

“Fuck off,” Billy muttered, but inwardly he was hoping against hope that Orlando was wrong. Dominic wouldn’t do this to him, would he? Fuck, yes, of course he would. There might be things Dominic wouldn’t do, but Billy wasn’t sure what they were.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully, strolling up to them.

“Dominic, what the fuck are you doing?”

Dominic looked hurt. “Visiting you at work.”

“Number one, I’m not fucking allowed to have visitors at work, and you know it. Number two, did you have to show up like this?”

“Of course I didn’t _have_ to,” Dominic said, smirking. “In fact, I had to use one of my biggest mixing bowls just to get a proper head on this outfit, and it’s not at all comfortable. You should appreciate…”

“ _GODDAMNIT,_ Dominic!” Billy exploded, glaring at him.

Dominic raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Liv giggled. “I think there’s a joke that goes like this.”

“Or a pick-up line,” Orlando added. “Is that a giant plastic-wrapped cock walking down the street, or are you…”

Liv cleared her throat. “Billy, people are starting to stare. Maybe you’d better at least take this discussion inside… most of the exam rooms are empty for now. It’s too early for drunk idiot partiers.”

“Fine,” Billy said sharply, grabbing Dominic by the wrist and dragging him toward the doors. Dominic jerked his hand away.

“You don’t have to be rude. I’ll behave myself.”

“You don’t fucking know how,” Billy muttered, as the automatic doors hissed open.

The waiting room was fairly empty, occupied only by family members of patients talking to each other or watching the TV on the wall in the corner or flipping through months-outdated magazines. Most of them looked up and stared at Dominic as he walked by, returning their stares with a broad grin.

“He’s a psych ward patient,” Billy said. “He’s off his meds.”

Dominic snorted. Billy gave him a shove through the doors into the emergency department and then steered him into the first empty exam room, slamming the door behind them.

 

Leaning against the wall further down the hall, Dr. Bean and Dr. Mortensen glanced at each other.

“Two points for me,” Dr. Bean said, checking the crumpled list in his hand. “Idiot wrapped in plastic.”

“Ahh, but it’s five points for me. Person dressed up as a penis.”

Dr. Bean scowled. “Number one, I don’t think that should be worth five points. Number two, it definitely isn’t worth five points if they’re here to fuck one of your nurses.”

Dr. Mortensen raised an eyebrow. “Three points.”

“I’ll give you that,” Dr. Bean said. “Besides, I’m still going to win.”

“The night is young,” Dr. Mortensen said mildly.

“Are you going to do something about that?” Dr. Bean asked, pointing toward the closed door to the first exam room.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Dr. Mortensen shrugged. “Someone might as well get laid tonight, and it’s not going to be me, and it’s not going to be you.”

“Fuck you. How do you know I’m not going home to some lovely blond twenty-year old who can’t wait to get into bed with me?”

“Because if you were, she wouldn’t be letting you come to work looking like you hadn’t slept or brushed your hair in three days.”

Dr. Bean rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk. Your fucking socks don’t even match.”

Dr. Mortensen shrugged. “True. But at least I’m not making up imaginary sexual escapades.”

“I just asked how you knew I _wasn’t._ ”

“Because if you were, you wouldn’t be here on your night off just to make sure I didn’t win the Halloween point count by default.”

“You cheat.”

Dr. Mortensen grinned. “With pride.”

“Fuck you. I’ve revised my list this year… it’ll be your turn to buy drinks.”

Viggo pointed down the hall at the attractive young woman who had just stumbled through the door with Liv, her face flushed bright red and a towel wrapped around her apparently naked upper torso.

“Half-naked attractive female. One point,” Dr. Bean said.

“Intoxicated patient who super-glued or allowed another party to super-glue pasties to his/her nipples. Ten points.”

“That is not on your list, you bastard.”

Dr. Mortensen handed over his list, grinning.

“Well, you don’t _know_ she’s got pasties super-glued to her nipples,” Dr. Bean muttered.

Liv glanced over her shoulder as she steered the patient into an exam room. “Pasties super-glued to her nipples.”

Dr. Bean glared at Dr. Mortensen. “Fuck you.”

“I told you, the night is young.”

 

Dominic stood patiently in the middle of the exam room as Billy sat down on the bed, glaring at him.

“Dom, you’ve got to stop doing shit like this. You’re going to get me fired.”

“Are you kidding? Have you met your boss? I don’t think he’d care if you fucked me in the middle of the cafeteria, as long as it was on your break.”

“Well, it’s still fucking embarrassing,” Billy said. “Orlando gets on me about it for weeks.”

“Maybe you should get on him about flirting with all the pretty young nurses just so none of them get any ideas about him getting his brains fucked out by Karl on a regular basis.”

Billy sighed. “He at least has a reputation to maintain. You’ve thrown mine out the window.”

Dominic grinned. “On the contrary, I think I’ve drastically improved it. By the way, do you know what I’m wearing under this plastic?”

Billy groaned. “No.”

“Nothing.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.”

“It is,” Dominic chuckled. “See the things I’m willing to do for you?”

“What do you expect me to do to you while you’re wrapped in plastic?”

“You should find that it’ll unwrap nicely right around certain important areas.”

“I’m not unwrapping you like a fucking Christmas present, Dom. I’m at work.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to let me down like that? After all the time I spent getting ready?”

“Yeah. Sure it took you hours to put a bowl on your head and wrap yourself in plastic.”

“I meant the other kind of getting ready.”

Billy swallowed hard, realizing exactly what he meant, and realizing that once again, Dominic was going to get his way.

“You know… the kind where I make sure I’m all nice and slick and…”

“Stop it.”

“Took me quite a while. Considering I was thinking about you the whole time I was doing it. Awfully tempting just to jerk off and stay home. But then I wouldn’t be getting to see that look on your face right now, would I?”

 

“Twenty-three points,” Dr. Mortensen said, crossing “Intoxicated person who cut self on what was wrongly presumed to be a Halloween prop” off his list.

“Did you pay these people to do this and then come in here?” Dr. Bean complained. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“You know, the amount I would have to pay them would  completely erase the advantage of you having to buy the drinks tonight. How long are we running this, anyway?”

“Till one of us gets to a hundred points,” Dr. Bean said. “Might give me a chance to catch up.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m up to twenty-five now.”

“What? How?”

He pointed toward the door. “Adult of either gender over the age of forty dressed as a giant baby. One point for the diaper and another one for the baby bottle full of liquor.”

“Fucking hate you, Mortensen.”

 “You’re going to hate me a lot more by the time tonight’s over. Might as well save some of it for later, when I hit my hundred points and you’re still at twelve.”

“Smug son of a bitch.”

“Sore loser.”

“Where exactly do you come up with all this shit on your list, anyway?”

“Maybe if you spent less time hanging out up in the ICU and more time down here…”

“Number one, I work in the ICU, not down here. Number two, the more time I’m down here, the more time I have to be around you.”

“Keep talking, Bean. I’m going to check and see if that’s my twenty-sixth point that Orlando just dragged in.”

“Are there any points on your list for ‘violently strangled ER physician’?”

“Nope. Any points on yours for ‘whining, bad-tempered ICU doc with no sense of humor’?”

Liv rolled her eye as she walked by on her way to one of the exam rooms.

“You know, it would be a lot quieter around here if you two would just fuck each other and get it over with.”

The two doctors blinked and looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“What the hell was that about?” Dr. Mortensen asked.

“Don’t know, but I’d rather fuck a polar bear.”

“Could be arranged.”

“Is ‘Dr. Bean fucking a polar bear’ on your list?”

“No. Maybe I’ll add it for next year.”

 

Billy found himself leaning against the wall, shaking his head, as Dominic sat on the examining table and scowled.

“Are you just going to leave me sitting here all night?”

“You’re insane.”

“I thought we’d established that a long time ago. My shrink even agrees with you, remember?”

“Somebody needs to up your meds, then,” Billy muttered.

“What are you so pissy about?” Dominic demanded.

“What am I so pissy about?” Billy repeated, his voice louder than he intended it to be. “I’m _pissy_ because you can’t show up here dressed like a fucking penis while I’m trying to fucking _work_!”

Dominic attempted to protest, but this was interrupted by the rather slippery plastic causing him to slide off the examining table and land on the floor on his ass. Billy snorted.

“That hurt!” Dominic argued.

“I’m sure. Look, I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Fine. But don’t leave me sitting around waiting.”

“If I do, you’re liable to fall off the table again.”

Dominic shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m already in the emergency department.”

Billy stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him, looking around with some desperation. He spotted Dr. Bean and Dr. Mortensen, but they seemed deeply involved in an argument having something to do with whether or not Dr. Mortensen could claim points on the arrival of at least five people dressed as zombies in a two-hour period; Dr. Bean’s argument seemed to be that two of the people had not actually been _dressed_ as zombies, but just generally resembled them in appearance and mental capacity. Liv was breezing down the hall on her way toward the waiting room.

“Liv!”

She stopped, glancing at the closed door behind him. “Not playing with your toy?”

“No. He’s fucking pissed me off and I don’t know what the fuck to about it. I think he’s missing the part of his brain that realizes when something is a bad idea.”

“I know exactly what to do about it,” Liv said, grinning.

“Oh?”

She looked down the hall and waved, and a short, broad-shouldered nurse with gray hair and a bulldog jaw walked toward him. Billy winced; everyone tried to stay out of Doris’s way, and usually out of her general vicinity.

“Doris, Mortensen’s double-booked me again.”

“Hmph. That’s what he gets for playing flirty-flirty with Bean. You need me to take someone?”

“Yeah… the guy in Room 1.”

“What’s his story?”

“He’s got himself wrapped in plastic, he seems to be possibly delusional… Billy went in to check his vitals, and now the guy thinks Billy’s going to come back and fuck him.”

Doris glanced at Billy and raised an eyebrow. The two of them didn’t often work the same shift, and no one else was inclined to tell her anything about anything. As far as she knew, Billy was quiet, did his job, and would have nothing to do with insane plastic-wrapped psych patients.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Liv said, rolling her eyes. “So you get the idea why Billy doesn’t want to be in there with him. Did I mention he’s probably naked under the plastic?”

Doris almost smiled for a moment. “I’ll take care of that one. Billy, you can help them finish wrapping up the lady down the hall to go up to the burn unit.”

“Burn unit?”

“Chronic emphysema. Life-long smoker. Tried to light a cigarette with her nasal cannula still in and her oxygen on.”

“Brilliant. How’d that go?”

“Her injuries are actually pretty mild, surprisingly, but she did burn her house down.”

“Fine. I’ll take her, and you take Mr. Plastic Penis in there.”

“What’s that about a penis?” Doris said, frowning.

“You’ll see,” Liv giggled, hurrying off.

Billy leaned back against the wall across from the room, listening to the voices behind the door after Doris closed it behind her. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he could hear Dominic’s protests quite clearly.

“Hey! No… wait a minute! Where’s Billy? What the fuck?”

He wasn’t sure what Doris said, but Dominic’s response was indignant and slightly panicked.

“Yes, he fucking does know who I am! Hey… leave the fucking plastic on! Where the fuck is Billy? No, I don’t want a fucking sedative! Hey!”

Billy smiled to himself and walked off down the hall. Dr. Bean and Dr. Mortensen barely glanced at him; from their discussion it appeared that Dr. Mortensen had conceded that he could only claim three points on the zombies, but that Dr. Bean’s claim on points for women dressed as hookers did not apply to women who were known for a fact to actually be hookers.

“What’s all the shouting about in that room?” Dr. Bean asked.

Dr. Mortensen shrugged. “Don’t know. Why? Trying to scrounge some more points? I’m already over fifty.”

Dr. Bean crumpled up his list and tossed it down the hall. “Fuck it. I surrender. Is the other attending here yet?”

“She’s been here for two hours.”

“Good. I’m tired of this place. You’re all nut jobs. And if I owe you drinks, I might as well start buying ‘em now.”

 

 

Dr. Bean was a fairly familiar face at the bar down the street from the hospital, and he gave the platinum-blond bartender a wink as he passed her.

“I’ll be back in my booth, love. We’ve got quite a bit of drinking to do, so why don’t you just bring us a bottle of something and a couple of shot glasses?”

She gave him the sort of plastered-on smile that was obviously reserved for obnoxious customers with large budgets. “You bet. Be right there.”

“You’re an asshole, you know,” Dr. Mortensen said, sliding into the booth in a dark corner of the bar.

“Yeah. I know. That’s what all my wives tell me before they file for divorce.”

“Sorry, Sean.”

“What for? I am an asshole. You’re well within your rights to say it.”

He took the bottle from the bartender and poured them both a shot, studying the label and scowling. “Jim fucking Beam?”

“You didn’t specify top-shelf, you know.”

“Fuck it,” Sean said, and tossed back his shot. “Get drinking, Viggo.”

“You’re not planning on us finishing that entire bottle, are you?”

“We can take our time. If we’re not done with it by closing time, we can take it somewhere else.”

Viggo looked around and wrinkled his nose. “Let’s take it somewhere else now. I’ve counted at least thirty-two health code violations since we walked in the door, my shot glass is dirty, and this place smells like old cigarettes and urinals.”

“Maybe I like the smell of old cigarettes and urinals.”

“You like hepatitis A, too? Come on. This place is foul, and I won. My apartment’s only three blocks down and it doesn’t have cockroaches crawling on the counter.”

Sean chuckled. “I’ll bet there’s no condom dispenser in the men’s room at your place, though.”

Viggo raised an eyebrow. “Do we need a condom dispenser?”

Sean snorted and shoved the bottle at Viggo. “You take this, and I’ll go pay that fake blond with the big arse at the bar.”

They walked out into the cool night, the giggles of the last few trick-or-treaters echoing among the buildings. Sean had tucked the bottle under his coat, and Viggo had his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Always wondered what your apartment looked like,” Sean said absently.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Figured any man who can’t match two socks must have interesting taste in decorating.”

“My décor doesn’t involve an extensive collection of empty liquor bottles, at least,” Viggo remarked.

Sean grinned. “How’d you get into my apartment?”

“Just a lucky guess. It’s cold out here.”

“Wonder how Billy’s friend is faring with Doris.”

Viggo laughed. “They sent Doris in after him? Good Lord. He’ll be royally pissed. Billy will hear about that when he gets home, no doubt.”

“Who knows? Heard the kid runs off to hide out with Orlando when he’s pissed off at Billy.”

“How do you hear things like that?”

“By pulling my head out of my arse occasionally, unlike you.”

“Fuck off, Bean. And walk faster. I’m freezing.”

“Try wearing a coat, genius.”

“I would say, ‘Fuck off, Bean’, but I think it’s at risk of overuse.”

“Nah. No such thing.”

“Alright, then. Fuck off, Bean.”

 

 

Sean leaned back in Viggo’s armchair and studied the stacks of books on the coffee table.

“That what you do when you’re not at work?”

Viggo held up the bottle, which was much emptier than it had been when they’d arrived. “When am I not at work? I come home and read and go to sleep.”

“You don’t even have a television,” Sean said accusingly. “How do you watch sports?”

“I don’t.  I just treat the concussions and broken ankles and such.”

“You,” Sean said, waving his glass in Viggo’s direction, “need to get out more.”

“What for?” Viggo asked, emptying the last of his bottle of soda into his glass and ignoring Sean’s muttered comment about real men drinking their liquor straight.

“Well, you could find yourself a girlfriend, for one,” Sean said.

“What do I need one of those for?”

Sean grinned and held out his glass for a refill. “Well, they’re good for fucking, to start with. And they can be nice company if you can avoid pissing them off.”

Viggo shrugged. “Seems silly to go to all the trouble.”

“Well, obviously!” Sean snorted, sarcastic. “After all, this apartment’s just full of other things you could fuck. Who needs a girlfriend?”

Viggo glanced around. “If you see anything in here that’s good for fucking, you’re even more desperate than I am.”

“Nah. Just drunker.”

“I doubt that. I’m not sure I can stand up.”

“Psh. Lightweight.”

“Oh? Then _you_ stand up.”

Sean stumbled to his feet, waving his arms triumphantly, and in the process knocking over the empty soda bottle on the coffee table and sending it bouncing and spinning across the bare wooden floor. Both men watched it until it came to a stop.

“Look,” Sean said. “It’s pointin’ at the coat rack.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever played spin the bottle at a party, you idiot?”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who got invited to parties?”

Sean laughed and stumbled over to the coat rack, where his coat hung next to several of Viggo’s, and wrapped his arms around the garments and proceeded to make loud slobbering kissing noises while engaging in rather vulgar groping. Viggo nearly spit out his drink.

“Stop molesting my coat!”

“Maybe it likes it,” Sean said, meandering back toward Viggo and, on his way, kicking the bottle in Viggo’s direction. Viggo kicked it back, sending it bouncing and rolling off again, and this time it ended up pointing at the arm chair Sean had been sitting in.

“Well, get to it,” Sean said.

“What?”

“Bottle says so. Give ‘er what she wants.”

Viggo, struggling to keep any semblance of a straight face, draped himself over the arm chair and gave it a fond caress.

“No wonder you never get laid,” Sean said, shoving him off the chair and nearly tipping himself over in the process. “Watch…”

He straddled the arm of the chair and began rubbing his crotch against it, mumbling drunken endearments and approval of its excellent figure and offering to buy it a few more drinks later.

“Stop fucking my chair!” Viggo protested.

Sean sighed and swung his leg over the arm of the chair. “Fine. Spin the bottle again.”

Viggo twirled the bottle, which skittered across the floor and came to rest with its open end pointing at the sofa.

“Well, there you go,” Sean said. “Anybody ought to be able to fuck a sofa.”

“Why would anybody want to fuck a sofa?”

“You ever seen some of the broads guys bring out of the bars at closing time?”

Viggo laughed and draped himself across the couch.

“Do it proper!” Sean demanded. “Come on! Gotta have some motion!”

Viggo, failing to control his laughter, began thrusting his hips into the sofa.

“That’s better!” Sean said. “Now, slap its ass and call it Bertha!”

“It doesn’t have an ass… wait, Bertha? What the fuck…”

Sean was already kicking the bottle again; this time it directed him to the big, old-fashioned speaker of Viggo’s stereo. He approached it with a drunken swagger, making a lewd gesture toward his crotch. Viggo giggled.

“Wouldn’t do that, Sean.”

“Why not?”

“She’s got a rather questionable history. Got her at a thrift store. Who knows how many other…”

Sean attempted to keep a straight face. “Got any condoms?”

“You want a condom to fuck my stereo speaker?” Viggo repeated.

Sean kicked the bottle again. “Fine. If I can’t fuck your slutty audio equipment, I get another turn.”

The bottle bounced, spun, bounced again, and came to rest pointing directly at Viggo where he was sprawled on the couch, watching Sean. For a moment, both of them were silent. Then Sean burst out laughing and stumbled in Viggo’s direction.

“Come ‘ere, you. I’ll molest you like I did your coat rack.”

Viggo made an entirely half-hearted attempt to escape, but was still laughing as Sean straddled him and planted exaggerated, sloppy kisses across his face.

“Stop it! You kiss like a fucking Saint Bernard!”

Sean grinned. “That would be more like this.”

He dragged his tongue over Viggo’s stubbled cheek. Viggo groaned and slapped at him, to no avail.

“Get off! You’re heavy!”

“Quit pretendin’ you don’t like it,” Sean laughed, kissing him again, except that somehow, this time, it wasn’t quite as sloppy, and actually landed on Viggo’s lips instead of the general vicinity of them, and Viggo wasn’t laughing anymore, and they seemed to be pressed together in a rather intimate way. Sean realized that without knowing it he was pushing Viggo down into the sofa, and that Viggo was pushing back: not with his hands, which were gripping Sean’s arms, but with his hips and thighs and… fuck, was that…

Someone moved a bit too much, and suddenly both of them tumbled unceremoniously to the floor with a thud, still entangled, Viggo still grasping Sean’s arms. They studied each other for a long moment, echoes of laughter still rippling through their chests.

“You up to something, Viggo?” Sean asked, breathless.

“You’re the one who wanted to play fucking spin the bottle,” Viggo retorted.

Another silence.

“What…” Sean attempted.

“You want to stop?” Viggo asked.

Sean shook his head.

This kiss was more thorough, more determined, and somewhere in the middle of it, hands were working at buttons on shirts, pushing them off shoulders. Viggo gasped at the feel of Sean’s bare chest against his own.

“Fuck, Sean…”

“Yeah. I know.”

Viggo pulled back, took a deep breath. “I do have a bed, you know.”

Sean’s pupils widened, eyes darkening, and Viggo felt his cock pulse against his thigh. After a moment, Sean nodded.

Viggo stumbled upright, offered Sean a hand and hauled him to his feet. Sean lost his balance and both of them nearly ended up on the floor again.

“You know, much as I’m gettin’ to like your floor, I’m hoping your bed’s a little softer,” Sean said, chuckling.

“I think we may be too drunk to get that far.”

“I must be drunk, if I’m lettin’ you take me to bed.”

“This coming from the man who fucked my coat rack.”

“She started it.”

“Just shut up and try not to stick your cock in any of my furniture on the way back the hall, OK?”

“No promises,” Sean said, grinning, as Viggo took him by the arm and led him off.

 

Neither of them remembered how they managed to get down the narrow hallway and into Viggo’s bedroom without harming themselves, but it seemed to have taken quite some time and involved a lot of one or the other of them being pressed up against the wall and groped. However they managed it, though, by the time they had stumbled into the room, the situation was becoming close to desperate: shoes kicked off, pants unbuttoned, shirts missing, hands locked on each other’s asses, mouths locked together.

“Bed,” Viggo managed, nodding toward it.

“I know what a fucking bed is,” Sean growled, backing Viggo toward it and pushing him down before climbing over him.

“Do you ever stop being an asshole?” Viggo asked.

“No,” Sean said. “These fucking pants have got to come off, right now.”

Viggo didn’t argue, and a moment later Sean was tossing the remains of their clothing into a corner. Viggo looked up at him, grinning.

“What’s that smirk for?”

“Just thinking you must be just about as desperate as I am.”

Sean scowled. “You saying you’ve got to be fucking desperate to go to bed with me?”

“No… I’m saying that I’m desperate because I haven’t been laid in forever, and as far as I know, you generally prefer vaginas.”

Sean’s gaze shifted sideways. “Mostly, yeah. Not always. What about you? If you’ve had anybody around since I met you, nobody seems to know about it.”

Viggo shrugged. “I’ve never really had time for… romantic involvements. Of any kind.”

“I’m not asking you about your dating history. I’m asking if you…”

“I know what you’re asking,” Viggo said, rolling his eyes. “Can we just say I’ve done some… very thorough and rather unorthodox prostate exams, and leave it at that?”

“We can for now,” Sean said, grinning. “But you’d better believe I’m gonna use that line some time when I come down to visit you.”

Viggo reached down and ran his fingers over Sean’s cock where it rested, heavy and hard, against his thigh. Sean exhaled sharply as the fingers closed into a fist and stroked upward. He reached down and closed his hand over Viggo’s.

“Problem?”

“No… just… fuck. I’m drunk and I’m so fucking wired already...”

Viggo stroked again, and Sean’s words fell apart into a moan.

“Fuck, Vig… if you do that I’m…”

“I know.”

Sean laid back, staring dizzily at the ceiling before he had to close his eyes as the entire focus of his body moved to the rapidly gathering tension and to Viggo’s firm hand. Before he could manage anything else even resembling a protest, he was moaning as he came.

He slumped against the bed, ashamed at how easily he could be taken over the edge, but it had been a long time since it’d been a hand other than his own, and…

Then Viggo was kissing him, one hand absently wiping at the sticky mess with a corner of the sheet while his other hand curled around the back of Sean’s neck.

When Viggo paused for breath, Sean managed to put some words together.

“What are you up to, Vig?”

Viggo’s voice was low, speaking close to his ear as he licked up the side of Sean’s neck.

“I want to fuck you.”

Sean tried to think. “I don’t… I’ve never done that.”

“Please… I want you so much…”

Sean managed to gather some of his wits. “I should’ve known you’d be begging me before the end of the night.”

“Fuck you,” Viggo snapped. “This is my place and my bed. I’m not fucking begging anybody.”

“Sounded like begging to me,” Sean retorted.

“Yeah, this coming from the guy who decides we have to play ‘spin the fucking bottle’ when there’s only two of us in the room, right? Where did you think that was going to end up? Or was your plan for the evening to jerk off in one of my coat pockets and go home?”

“I think a certain Mr. Jim Beam was making my decisions for me at that point.”

Viggo’s eyes were very blue in the street lights that cast shadows across the bed. “What about now?”

“He’s still definitely making most of them,” Sean said.

“You tell me you’re too drunk to think right, and I’ll leave you alone and that’ll be the end of it,” Viggo said. “We can play this never happened if you really want to.”

Sean had to force his mouth to move along with his thoughts. “I don’t want to.”

“What?”

“Don’t want to… pretend this never happened.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone and let you sleep it off, Sean?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No.”

“You want to try this, then?”

Sean opened one eye. “I don’t know… after all, how do I know you’re not just gonna use me to practice your ‘turn your head and cough’ technique? Polish up on your rectal exam skills?”

Viggo rolled his eyes. “I get plenty of that at work, thanks.”

“Yeah, but at work you don’t do rectal exams with your cock, do you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m quite certain that’s not standard emergency room procedure. Not to mention it’s extremely unsanitary. And have you seen most of the people that come into my emergency room?”

Sean laughed. “I’m tryin’ to imagine you explaining to a patient how you just need to perform a special procedure…”

“If this is supposed to be turning me on, it’s really not.”

Sean fell silent, seeing Viggo had gone serious again. “No more of that?”

“You can keep that up, and I’ll end up tossing you out of my apartment, or you can shut up and we can do other things.”

Sean shrugged, trying to hide his unease. “All right, then. It’s not like I’ve never had somebody’s finger up my bum before.”

“Hopefully you’ll like this a little better.”

Sean kept his eyes closed as he heard Viggo rummaging through a drawer. After a minute, slippery hands were stroking over his cock, and he was surprised to find it starting to harden again already. Maybe he wanted this more than he was willing to admit he did…

He jumped at the sudden touch of a cool finger sliding down between his buttocks. Viggo murmured something reassuring, and Sean tried to relax.

The smooth slide of one finger surprised him at how easy it was, and of course Viggo knew exactly what he was looking for, but this wasn’t an examination. In a minute he had added a second finger and both of them were pressing, sliding over that spot, sending shudders through his muscles and bringing his cock surging back to full hardness.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“Good?” Viggo asked.

“Oh, fuck, yes…”

“I’ve got a couple of condoms in the bedside stand over there… god knows why, since I can’t remember the last time I used one…”

“A couple?” Sean asked, fighting to think clearly. “You planning on fucking me more than once, or you got more than one cock?”

Viggo laughed, and the sound was warm and made something twist in Sean’s stomach.

“I keep my spare penis in my pocket for emergencies,” Viggo said. “I only get it out on really fancy occasions.”

“This isn’t a fancy occasion?”

“I’m in bed with a man who usually refers to me using some combination of the words ‘asshole’, ‘bastard’, ‘prick’, and ‘fuckwad’. And we ended up here because you were horny enough to make a pass at my coat rack. I think this is definitely a one-penis occasion.”

“What would count as a two-penis occasion?” Sean asked, trying to distract himself from the sudden burn of three fingers.

“Are we seriously having this conversation? Hmm. A two-penis occasion would definitely involve suits and ties, and preferably a nice dinner and something better than cheap whiskey to drink.”

“That sounds like a fucking date or something,” Sean muttered, jumping as Viggo withdrew his fingers.

“Heaven forbid,” Viggo chuckled. “What kind of sick fuck actually goes on dates anymore?”

Sean was trying to think of an answer, but Viggo’s hands were on his thighs, shifting them up and back, and then it was much more than just fingers, and for a moment Sean found himself pulling away, but Viggo said something and pulled him closer, sliding deeper. It didn’t take long for Sean to figure out that Viggo was just as adept at locating that particular spot with his cock as he was with his fingers, and not much longer before both of them were moving together, breathless, a bit clumsy, but nobody seemed to be complaining. Sean found himself thinking absently that he wasn’t a young man anymore and normally he’d need a bit more time before a second go-round, but apparently his brain had failed to communicate this to his body, because when Viggo grasped his cock and stroked it hard in rhythm with his own motions, he came just as hard as he had the first time, shouting. Viggo gasped out something incoherent, trying to maintain enough control not to hurt Sean, but Sean was probably beyond even noticing.

Sprawled across the bed, letting the cold air of the apartment pull the heat out of their skin, both men were silent for a few minutes.

“You all right, Sean?”

“Yeah. Seem to be just fine.”

Viggo propped himself up on one elbow. “Are you going to stay here tonight?”

Sean yawned. “Too cold. Too much trouble to get all dressed again.”

“You’re actually going to sleep in the same bed with me?”

“Yeah… but only because you’re warm.”

Another minute of quiet.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone at work about this?” Sean asked.

“Fuck, no,” Viggo said, laughing. “They’d never shut up.”

“They never shut up anyway.”

“True. But at least for the next couple of days they can be distracted gossiping about Billy and Mr. Penis.”

“I still can’t believe they handed him over to Doris. She’s likely to set off his post-traumatic stress disorder… the woman scares me.”

“That’s what he gets showing up in my ER like that.”

Sean chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d want to be either one of them tonight.”

 

 

Somewhere on the other side of town from the hospital, Billy was walking briskly in the cold air, hands shoved into his pockets. Dominic trailed behind him, wearing a sullen scowl and an assortment of ill-fitting clothes from the hospital’s “Lost and Found” bin.

“I ought to just go somewhere else,” he muttered.

“Go ahead,” Billy said, not slowing his pace.

“What the fuck did you send that crazy bitch of a nurse in to attack me with sedatives and scissors? She thought I was a fucking psych patient!”

Billy glanced over his shoulder. “Dom, you _are_ a fucking psych patient.”

Dominic stopped in his tracks. “What?”

Billy stopped too, turning around to face him, and making sure that Dominic was listening before he spoke.

“I said, you _are_ a fucking psych patient. People who aren’t fucked up in the head don’t show up at someone else’s job dressed as a penis. You know why?”

“Because they’ve got no sense of humor?”

“Because they’re not fucked in the head!” Billy snapped. “What is _wrong_ with you? Are you missing the part of your brain that says, ‘Hey, this might be a bad idea’?”

Dominic looked back at him and said nothing. Billy turned and stalked toward home, trying not to listen for footsteps behind him. He had gone most of a block before he heard a quiet voice behind him.

“Billy.”

He stopped. “What, Dom?”

“Look, it wasn’t funny, okay? I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Billy sighed. “I don’t think you can help it.”

“I’ll at least try to think about what I’m doing occasionally. I promise.”

Billy relented and turned around again, drawing his hand out of his pocket and holding it out. Dominic stepped forward carefully and wrapped his own cold fingers around Billy’s.

“Doris must’ve scared the hell out of you,” Billy said. “I’ve never seen you apologize for anything that quickly.”

“Ever occur to you that maybe I’m trying to learn not to do stupid shit?”

Billy squeezed his hand. “I believe you, Dom. I really do. But if you show up in that ER again, I’d keep in mind that Doris has your number…”

Dominic shuddered. “I think I’ll just stick with _not_ visiting you at work.”

“I think that’d be a good idea.”

“Phone sex still allowed?”

Billy chuckled. “Maybe, but I’m not going to encourage you.”

“You don’t have to.”

They walked hand in hand until they were nearly home before Dominic spoke again.

“Do you really think I’m fucked in the head?”

“I think you don’t know when to stop. With anything.”

Dominic nodded slowly. “I guess that’s pretty much true.”

“It’s pretty scary, from my end of it,” Billy said.

Dominic looked over at him, his blue eyes solemn and shadowed in the glow of the street lights overhead.

“It’s pretty scary from my end of it too, Billy.”

Billy shivered, and not because of the cold. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

**Author's Note:**

> (if you're interested in the much larger story regarding Billy and Dom, please see "GLASS" under my list of works)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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